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Hanyang Pass, Ning Province.
Wei Yuan rode a lean horse out of the pass and set off on his journey westward.
He was wearing a cultivator’s martial outfit and a pair of long leather boots. A rain cloak was draped over his shoulders. Two square wicker baskets—his luggage—were strapped to his horse’s back. This was the most common attire for wandering cultivators in the west.
It was just past noon, and the sky was cloudless. However, the sun looked like it was covered in gauze, its reddish hue blurred at the edges. The air was so hot and stuffy that most travelers could squeeze water out of their clothes after just walking for a bit.
Hanyang Pass was one of the most formidable fortified gateways under the heavens. It was also the gate of Ning Province. It housed a hundred thousand mighty soldiers and possessed walls that were broad rather than high—five zhang in both width and height. It boasted eight colossal crossbows with a shooting range of ten thousand zhang and the potency to injure an Avatar in one shot.
Under the hazy sunlight, the two words “Hanyang Pass” appeared slightly faded and tinged with verdigris. Large patches of moss covered the ramparts and gave the entire city a deep, verdant hue.
The expanse was blanketed in shades of green as far as the eyes could see. In the far west, a line of deep, damp, inky green stretched across the horizon.
Beyond the pass, the main road became muddy, pitted, and dotted in murky puddles. Few travelers ventured along this western road. The two groups that had crossed the pass with Wei Yuan entered...
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